


Almost as Good as the Real Thing

by Glitteringworlds



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Character Death, Crossdressing, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitteringworlds/pseuds/Glitteringworlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ephraim dies after the events at Renvall, Eirika is left with the shattered remnants of a country barely held together by faith in its prince. In desperation to save her people, she poses as her brother and leads an assault on Grado to reclaim her kingdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When they were younger, the twins used to make a game of it. Ephraim would slip into the kitchen to grab at a loaf of warm bread or soft, doughy pastries, stuffing them into the front of his shirt until someone noticed him. He would take off sprinting, the shouts of whatever unfortunate soul happened to catch him this time echoing down the corridor. The key to the trick, however, came when he rounded the corner, a half-panicked grin plastered on his face, and crouched into the corner as Eirika took off running. He would sink down into the shadows as his pursuer rounded the corner a few seconds later, though sometimes he would give in to temptation and stick out his leg to send them toppling over.

After the two of them were a ways away, Ephraim would usually take a moment to help himself to one of the treats he had stolen, paying little mind to the fact that half of them were crushed, smeared across his shirt. Eirika was faster than he was, especially when they were young, and usually managed to completely avoid whomever was chasing her. But even on the occasions when they did catch up to her, she would just flash a smile and shrug at them. After all, she hadn’t even been in the kitchen that day, how could she have stolen anything?

It wasn’t fair of them, of course, and even if puberty hadn’t made that particular trick much harder to pull off, Eirika probably would have put a stop to it. After all, she knew, a princess wasn’t supposed to play tricks on her subjects. She needed to command their respect. To gain their trust. Princesses didn’t lie.

~

When Kyle and Forde find her, she’s pulling her blade out of Tirado’s stomach. Maybe that’s why they tell her the truth immediately. She may have been in a clean white dress the last time they saw her, perched on the edge of the stairs to see them and Ephraim off, but they know the look of someone who doesn’t have time for soft words. Her face is flint, sparking off the edge of her still bloody sword, as if their faces have already given voice to the truth that their words trip over in pursuit of.

Ephraim is dead.

The first thing she thinks, as she wipes the blade against the corner of her skirt, is that she will have to be careful around the cooks, because they know the trick by now.

And then she has to backtrack, to try and makes sense of that thought, because part of her is still trying to put together the pieces. It is the part that remembers the look on King Hayden’s face when he told her that her father was dead. The part that remembers Seth’s hand on her shoulder, and those whispered condolences from everyone in the room, assuring her that they would understand and support her should she chose to end her journey there, to fall to the grief they were sure was snapping at her heels.

That part of her brain reminds her that she has lost a father and a brother in a span of less than a month.

The other part of her brain tells her that Renais has lost its king and its prince, and that is the part that straightens her back.

“Take me to him.”

~

He had passed away only a day earlier from an infected wound he had received while trying to escape. The knights, Forde explains to Eirika, were used to having heal staves or vulneraries readily around, and hadn’t know what to do for him in the middle of a forest, unable to go find help for fear of discovery. He tries to make it not sound like an excuse.

Eirika kneels next to him. Kneels next to his corpse. It’s not bloody, and that’s what’s strangest. The gash on his side is well bandaged, his clothes washed. Even the hole in his tunic is patched, if roughly. But he is still pale and cold and his face is empty. After battlefields, the quietness of it hits harder than any final gurgled scream. Cold sweat still clings to his face and hair, and Eirika brushes his bangs out his eyes as gently as possibly. Her brain is still working, still trying to catch up with itself.

She straightens without turning to face Kyle and Forde. “I need some privacy.” 

Eirika listens to the rustle of trees as they leave, standing quietly until they are an appropriate distance away. When she does finally move, she does so with an efficiency that surprises even herself.

Ephraim’s armor, what he’s still wearing that is, comes off easily enough. The bulk of it, including the breastplate and pauldrons, is piled on the ground next to him. She removes his greaves first, laying them softly on the ground with the rest of the armor. The bright red of her boots would be a dead giveaway, she decides, and slips his black ones off as well. The tasset she unclips fairly easily, sliding her hand under the small of his back to lift up his hips, so she can slide it out from under him. His cape is tangled around him, having been used as a makeshift blanket, and it takes a bit of work to sort out. His gloves also give her trouble in getting off, since his hands had already started to stiffen. She spends several minutes slowly working each finger out of the glove.

That’s when the first wave of nasuea hits, and she falls backward from where she had been crouched over him, hands grabbing at fistfuls of dead, half rotten leaves in an attempt to find something solid to brace herself against. She backs into a nearby tree and digs her fingers into the bark, feelings it scrape unforgivingly at her knuckles as she peels away huge sections of it and throws it to the ground, her eyes never leaving her brother’s body. His right glove hangs limply, half off arm, and she can still see the outline of his curled fingers in the shape of it. For a moment she feels as if he is reaching for her, and her heart flips in fear and relief, a joy at the fleeting thought that he might be alive after all, and a terror that he carries the same fake life as the strange creatures that have been haunting her journey for weeks now.

And then it’s gone again, and he is just a dead body again, pale and lonely and half-undressed. Eirika takes deep breaths to steady herself, sinking back against her mutilated tree, running her fingers gently along the soft sticky underside that her frantic scramble at its has revealed. She focuses her thoughts to one sharp point, that one point that had been stuck inside of her chest since the moment she heard that Ephraim was dead. Renais needs him. Renais needs him more than it needs me.

Renais had always needed him more, wanted him more. Where she struggled every day to carry herself with the proper bearing, to hold her head high and keep her arms close to her body, to walk at the right pace and with the right steps, he charged ahead with full faith that there would be an army at his back. That respect that had taken her years to cultivate, he had commanded almost without thinking. The kingdom had already fallen to chaos with her father’s death. The thing that had held every together before was her insistence that Ephraim was still alive. It was what had allowed her to lead them to pierce Grado’s occupation of Renvall. But now? What hope is their of piecing her kingdom back together when she barely feels capable of holding the respect of a small retinue of knights? No, there is no question in her mind of what she needs to do.

She finishes her task quickly, removing his tunic and other glove. She fishes through his bags to find a spare undershirt and pair of pants, not wanting to leave him completely naked. The bracelet gives her pause. She knows that she needs to keep his safe, but she can’t think of a good place to hide her own. It takes her a moment to realize that she doesn’t have to. If she had died, she was sure Ephraim would have taken her bracelet for safekeeping. So she simply puts hers back on after she pulls on his gloves, slipping his own on over her newly gloved left arm. 

The rest of the armor goes on easily, though she has to pull the breast plate uncomfortably tight against her chest. At some point, she knows, she will have to find a way to bind her breasts, but she’s not quite sure how to attempt that for now, and she’s fairly sure that the armor will flatten her out well enough for the time being.

Her hair is the last hang up. She knows that there is no way that she can easily match Ephraim’s cut, having neither the means to cut it cleanly nor the time to spend on it. Her only hope is that, since most of the troops haven’t seen Ephraim for the better part of several months, they won’t notice the difference as peculiar.

She lops it off in a few quick strokes of her sword, scattering it beneath the trees and kicking up dirt and leaves until there is no trace of the turquoise strands anywhere in the camp. Her neck feels strangely cold without it’s comforting weight. Finally satisfied, Eirika leans down to pick up the last piece of her costume. Standing, she hefts up Ephraim’s lance, noting with dismay how much heavier it is than the lithe rapier she is used to wielding. That will certainly take some getting used to.

And that’s it. She swallows back whatever tears still cling to the edges of her vision, taking deep breaths to steady herself.

Eirika of Renais is dead. Long live the prince.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on chapter two, but rest assured that this story is far from dead! I've got a lot of it already mapped out, and I'm going to keep working on it whenever I get the chance. Hopefully the wait for the next chapter will be shorter. I will do my best to get it written and posts as quickly as possible. For now, enjoy chapter two!

It’s a strange thing for Eirika, trying to figure out how Ephraim would mourn her death. Mostly she just tries to keep to herself as much as possible, staying in her tent few the quiet hours between long days spent traveling back to Frelia. Kyle and Forde are the only members of her oddly cobbled together group whom she has regular contact with. It’s a decision she makes based both in convenience and in believability. Other than Seth, Ephraim wouldn’t have had any knowledge of her traveling companions. Not only is there the risk, while talking to them, of someone being astute enough to see through her lies, but she also worries that she might slip up, might say something that Ephraim would have no way to know.

Seth, for his part, keeps mostly to himself as well. He seems to take the supposed loss of Eirika hard, visting only to give cursory reports as to the state of the supplies and well being of the troops. Eirika does not push the subject. Seth’s aggressive loyalty makes him one of the people she is most worried about. And though she has considered letting both him and Franz in on her charade, due to their position as knights of Renais, in the end it seems safer to have as few people in on the lie as possible. Whatever else she might be feeling, Eirika knows that trusting others right now, however much of her burden it might ease, is something she can do only with the highest prejudice. Kyle and Forde were necessary inclusions, otherwise she would most likely have tried to go things alone until she could get more of a political foothold.

Even so, she had been happy for there help, when she had first emerged from the woods where her brother’s corpse lay, undressed and unburied. The brief look of bewilderment and surprise alone had been a point of unintentional reassurance from the two knights. If the people who had seen the Prince die could believe, however briefly, that he had walked out of those woods, then perhaps she had a better chance of fooling the rest of the world than the meager and desperate portion that she had allotted herself.

It didn’t take them long to cotton on to the trick, however. Kyle was the first to speak.

“May I ask the meaning of this?”

Eirika had leveled her gaze at him, steady and unwavering. Whatever else, she could not hesitate here. Loyal as Kyle and Forde might be, she held together her deception by her own strength, and to pull in their true support, and not simply half-hearted feints at it, she could not afford to hesitate with them.

“No. You may not. You may go bury my brother’s body and pack up the supplies you need from your camp. When you return I will tell you whatever I believe you need to know on how to proceed from here on out.” She had paused briefly, and then, remembering that respect must work both ways, had added, “I would appreciate your discretion and obedience in this matter. Though I understand that you have been through a great deal in these past few weeks, and my actions can not making coping with the,” She paused again, gathering breath, “with the loss of Ephraim any easier, you must understand that I act only for the good of my people. And I expect you to follow suit.”

She had been surprised that it was Forde who had nodded his head to her, Forde who had grabbed Kyle’s elbow and steered him back into the wood. Eirika was on a friendly basis with most of the nights, though she had never known them as her brother had, and had been around Forde and Kyle enough to know that Kyle was usually the one to force the issue of responsibility. Not that Forde wasn’t a good knight, he simply didn’t have the sober dedication that Kyle seemed to carry heavily on his back. 

Perhaps it was Forde’s almost juvenile flexibility that allowed him to so quickly acquiesce to Eirika’s plan. She had turned the question over in her head while she waited for them to come back out of the woods. Her heart had still been racing from the brief conversation, her senses stretched taut across every word, every reaction. Their actions could unhinge everything. And it was for this reason that she had let herself believe, letting out a small sigh and rolling her shoulder to shake some of the tension from them, that Forde had seen in her face what he followed so readily in Kyle’s. What he followed in her brother’s.

She knows she can only afford herself as much relief as will increase her chances of success, however. Trusting in her own abilities, or the loyalty of others, in a dangerous balancing act. Eirika plots out entire conversations in her head in the middle of the night, waking before dawn to walk half a mile away and practice her lance work. She goes over plans and backup plans in her head as she works, lunging and thrusting while she tries to remember whether or not her brother was on a first name basis with the knights of Frelia, or if he had done well in arithmetic. 

It is a blessing that they were so close, and shared so much with each other, she knows, but that is also what makes things difficult. She has snuck back into her tent on more than one occasion with red eyes and a soreness that has nothing to do with the unfamiliar movements of her lance. No one in the camp comments on how bedraggled she looks in the mornings. For now, at least, she is safe under the cover of morning. How long that will last she doesn’t know. The scars of loss and death are meant to heal with time, but keeping up the lie was like cutting them anew every time she heard someone call her by Ephraim’s name.

~

Eirika calls Kyle and Forde into her tent the night before they cross into Frelia. She has already sent Vanessa ahead to announce their presence and request a meeting with the King, and if all goes well then she expects to be making her case to Hayden within the day. It’s going to be a delicate conversation. First and foremost she has to relay the news of her supposed death believably, and cement her role as Ephraim. But beyond that, she has to build up moment for the next stage of her plan. The key of her deception and also the bulk of the reasons for it lay behind the walls of castle Frelia.

Kyle arrives first, unsurprisingly, entering the tent and standing to the side, waiting for further instructions. He looks tired as well. Everyone does. Journeying back from Renvall has taking more out of them than traveling to it had, despite the fact that their trek back has been fairly uneventful. Battle wounds can be healed easily enough, when you have reason to push on. Emotional exhaustion is less easily dealt with. Natasha and Moulder had been kept busier than any of the fighters, doing their best to maintain the spirits of the group. They were dragging themselves back to lick their wounds and wait, and that was the danger of finally arriving in a place where they could rest. If they laid down there, they would never get up again. If they closed their eyes they would never open them until Grado had burned the continent to the ground and came frothing to the doorstep.

Eirika had waited for war to come to her once before, and now her brother and father were dead, her kingdom was taken, and her people were suffering. She couldn’t rely on the competence of kings and princes this time. Hayden would have been happy to keep her from going after Ephraim the first time, and there was no chance of him supporting her plans if she couldn’t convince him of her strength. No. Of Ephraim’s strength, that she had taken onto herself, had hefted like a shield in front of her. It is unwieldy and set her off-balance, but is was the only way to face the onslaught that faced her.

Sighing, Eirika runs over her plan one last time in her head, confirming for the hundredth time that both her reasoning and tactics were sound. Much like they had been when she had first disguised herself as Ephraim, Kyle and Forde are to serve as her test run. Convincing them of her strategy is not only vital to its success, but also serves as an opportunity to practice her presentation of it. Kyle and Forde are bound to follow her as knights of Renais. Hayden, though Renais and Frelia do have a strong history of allegiance, owes her no such loyalty, particularly when her kingdom is now serving as Grado’s foothold to begin an attack on his.

Eirika doesn’t begin talking until Forde arrives, grinning meekly at her. He seems about to launch into an overly complicated and at least partially fabricated explanation until he sees her face, at which point he simply nods once at her and apologizes. She nods back, then gestures that the two knights come over to where she has laid a map of Magvel out on the table.

“I know that up to this point I have been rather opaque about my plans, and I apologize for that. I have asked a great deal from the two of you, and offered little in the way of explanation, other than my word that I do so for the good of Renais.”

Kyle clears his throat, and Eirika pauses to let him speak. “For what it’s worth, sir, I don’t believe that either Forde or I have questioned your actions. While it’s true that Ephraim was generally more forward about his plans, we realize that these are unusual circumstances.”

“Your patience with and understanding of this fact is appreciated, and perhaps I can help with at least one facet of it now. When we arrive in Frelia tomorrow, I plan to formally request the aid of King Hayden in reclaiming Renais and, from there, moving in to dethrone Vigarde.

Forde whistles. “That’s no small task.”

“Nor was taking Renvall. The children of Fado don’t do things by halves. Perhaps it would be easy to believe that a princess would be more content riding out the storm, but I trust it would not seem out of character for Ephraim to pursue such a course of action?”

“I believe he probably would have fought his way to the heart of Grado by himself if he had been given the chance.”

“Then consider my determination that of my brother’s.”

“Or perhaps more than that, sir,” Kyle cut in. “You’ll need it if you plan to convince Hayden to support you. We may have succeeded in taking Renvall, but we did lose one of the royal twins, which is a harsh loss to return from. He is already stretched thin as it is anyway, and even under the best of circumstances probably doesn’t have many troops to spare.”

“Fortunately, I don’t need his troops. I need his political support. As it is now, the only power I hold is that of a name that has been taken from me and an identity that’s not my own. The momentum I need to gather is double-faceted: I need success in battle, but more importantly, I need political support. We will provide the first. Hayden will provide the second.”

“So you hope to have Hayden official endorse your claim on Renais and plans to retake it. But what about the victories? We may have made some inroads into Grado’s power but they still have us far overpowered.”

“This is where the politics of the matter come into play. Frelia has her back against the wall. Renais has already fallen. Which leaves Carcino, Rausten, and Jehanna. Carcino is small but it is the closest. However, it is also new, and we have no way to know how they will react as the war continues. As the youngest nation it seems the most likely to focus on protecting itself.

“Jehanna is a possible ally, but it is also the farthest away. In addition, it is under attack from Grado. This means two things: first, though we have a common enemy, they will also most likely be focused on protecting themselves much as Frelia is. Secondly, we do not know what state they will be in by the time we would be able to reach them. For all we know, Grado may have enough force to take the kingdom before we even have the chance to ask for their support, or offer ours in return.

“Which leaves Rausten. Rausten is insulated from Grado, which means they have the resources to support us.”

“That is all well and good,” Kyle interrupts, “but convincing Rausten to help us will be no easy task. They are slow to move in matters of diplomacy, let alone war.”

“Which is where the politics of the matter come in. You remember that girl you told me Ephraim had befriended? Myrrh was her name, I believe?”

“Yes. She was a manakete, who claimed to sense darkness from Grado.”

“But she disappeared when he died.”

“And we are going to find her again. Rausten may not be quick to motivate for a war of politics, but I believe it will do for a war against demons. We need to reframe the conflict. Which is why we need Hayden’s endorsement as well. If the acknowledged heir of Renais is making a claim for the throne in order to retrieve the sacred stone, a manakete by his side, and calls for the aid of Rausten to conquer the forces of darkness that have seized hold of Grado, I doubt that Mansel will deny it.”

“It’s a risky plan. It depends on a lot of things going our way.”

“I know. Perhaps its more than we will be able to pull off. But doubt is death. And if I can’t get your support on this matter, then surely none of the other pieces will ever fall into place.”

Silence draped itself over the tent poles and hung down with the canvas roof. Eirika didn’t push the matter. Where a firm hand had helped her secure the respect of Kyle and Forde, she knew that this was a matter that could not be pushed. Her impatience would only turn into their festering unease. If they were to support her, they had to come to that conclusion of their own volition.

Kyle breaks the silence. “It’s a precarious thing, but I agree with you that sitting in the false safety of Frelia won’t help. Ephraim wouldn’t have wanted us to give up on Renais so easily. I believe he would have trusted you in this matter.” He pauses. “No. I trust you on this matter, as my princess and as my general. The will of the dead have no place in this decision. Eirika, this victory will be yours and yours alone, and I hope to help you to achieve it.”

“And I as well, though I doubt I can say that quite as eloquently as Kyle. But you have my support as well.”

Eirika lets out the breath she had been holding as quietly as possible, doing her best to disguise how tense she had been. “Very well then. Get some sleep.”

She holds each of their gazes for a moment, confirming with her own eyes what she had heard in their words. “Tomorrow we bring the war to Grado.”


	3. Chapter 3

Eirika awakens in half-steps. First she falls into herself, her awareness. There is bustling, more noise than their camp has heard in some time. None of it seems close enough to merit her immediate attention, which is good, since it takes some time for the rest of her thoughts to put themselves in order.

Then she slips into the shadow of Ephraim’s identity, letting it settle over her before sitting up. Every movement, whether it is seen by others or not, needs to be shaped to the curve of her deception. When she stretches, she pulls her arms together over her head, leaning into it just as he would do before his exercises in the morning. When she moves to sit on the stool set next to her bedroll, she sits with her legs splayed, elbows braced against her legs as she slouches over and runs her hands through her hair. It feels awkwardly short.

Still sitting, she lets the rest of her thoughts wash over her. The plans she had explained to Kyle and Forde the previous night, the upcoming cross into Frelia, the steps she had to take to reclaim her kingdom: each thought settling itself across her shoulder, a familiar and welcome weight. Having things to think about meant she was doing something besides simply worrying. In some ways, though she knows she would take back everything that lead her here, Eirika is glad for the change. Sitting in Renais waiting for news of her brother’s death had been unbearable. She is happier hiding the weights of sorrow and responsibility then she was watching as everyone around her attempted to relieve her of them both. Watching others work for something she wanted as fiercely as any of them had always left a bad taste in Eirika’s mouth.

Though, she thinks, standing up to go through the motions of readying herself, she had always imagined herself working to help her people through support and understanding, not through bloodshed and war. But the preference is out of her hands now. And she knows she owes them her devotion now, through the unpleasant tasks, as much as she had hoped to pay it to them in times of peace.

Pulling on her boots, Eirika moves herself from the general thoughts of the matter to the specific. Whatever is going on outside, while clearly much too calm to be anything threatening to her army’s safety, presents an unexpected addition to her plans. She had been hoping for a quiet trip through Frelia for most of the day, perhaps with a small escort of pegasus knights. They are finally moving into safe territory, and Eirika had hoped to use the time to gather the last of her thoughts before talking with Hayden. In addition, it is important that she talk directly to Hayden, and not through any sort of liaison. She knows that her plans will hold no weight at all should he hear word of them before she arrived, since he is liable to settle firmly into disagreement if he has the time. Though Eirika is usually one to advocate for careful thought before action, she knows she has to take Ephraim’s more hotheaded approach to push this through. Which also means leaving the others very little room to over-think matters.

There is sunlight trickling through the canvas of the tent by the time Eirika has fully readied herself. She can smell breakfast cooking, which is something that she hasn’t remembered since before Renvall. And though she is still worried about these changes to the normal routine, she lets herself, for a second, feel the same bits of happiness that seem to have crept into the camp while she was sleeping.

Until a familiar voice rises above the rest, and sends the weight of her worries falling right back down. “Where is he though? Still sleeping? Not like him to let me-”

Prince Innes never had been particularly good at blending in with a crowd.

Eirika grimaces briefly, then sighs. She should have expected this. Despite the war, or perhaps because of it, Fado had decided to send a proper escort for the rag-tag group of soldiers she is to be hauling into his territory today. 

Which actually isn’t bad, in some ways. Innes being here means that there will probably be more focus on him than on any gossip that could get out about Eirika’s plans. It’s a convenient re-direct that comes with a price, however.

Eirika had been planning to make her stay in Fado as short as possible, and he contact with the prince and princess, two people who knew her and her brother better than most, as limited as possible. To tell the truth, she had hoped it might be possible to avoid it altogether. If Innes had still been away, Eirika has no doubt that she’d be able to keep Tana at an arm’s length. Tana had always been a bit fidgety around her brother, and less open and friendly than she was with Eirika. In addition to that, Eirika is fairly sure that Tana wouldn’t be very accepting of contact herself.

It was one of many thoughts that had dragged at her as they approached Frelia. Tana thinks she is dead. The news had traveled much faster than they had, helped in no small part by Eirika herself, who had wanted the rumors to overtake any that might be circulating about her brother’s death. Which meant that Tana had probably heard the news from some soldier, some messenger shuffling through the castle halls when he heard. Someone who had rushed to tell her, but had remained stiff and formal as she found out. Eirika wondered if she had been angry with him, or perhaps reached out for support. Maybe she hadn’t let her emotions twitch across her face, had tried to stay as calm as the man reporting to her. Or maybe she had let the information sink and curl up in her gut, resting heavy on her tongue as her friends and family slowly moved in with attempts at comfort, like circling sharks.

That was how Eirika had felt when she had learned of her father’s death. She knew that Tana will not take things the same way she did, because Tana is different than her, and because losing a friend is its own struggle, different from losing a father or a kingdom or a brother. Each of those losses had effected Eirika uniquely, after all. But the heart of the matter remains, and weighs on Eirika just the same.

If Ephraim had died, if she had let him be the one to perish, rather than burning away her own identity, then it would have no doubt been Tana she turned to. It felt unfair, Eirika thinks, that she had to send the news on towards the one person whose embrace she most desired, to deal Tana the same blow that she herself had been dealt, and then step back from her grieving friend and offer no comforting hand or kind words herself.

It was something she had decided a long time ago, before she had even began to return Frelia, for which she would never be able to forgive herself.

Nonetheless, Innes is here, and there is no way to avoid her guilt and present a good picture to Hayden at the same time, so Eirika bites down on her preemptive regrets, focusing instead on readying herself physically. She double-checks that her shirt falls flat against her, revealing nothing of her awkwardly bound breasts. Eirika has gotten good enough at binding to travel without Ephraim’s bulky breastplate strapped across her chest every day, which is a blessing, but she knows that her efforts were sloppy at best, and painfully tender in the evenings at worst. Today she had rushed through getting ready, but the bandages drawn tight around her seem to be doing well enough, holding firm as she had pulled the loose fitting shirt over her head. Ephraim’s shirts still hang a little large on her, but the difference between their frames has been diminishing as of late, helping to negate the strange looseness of his clothing that she had feared would give her away in the first days.

One of the things Eirika has noticed recently was how much muscle mass she has already gained since Renvall. She is training more than she had ever cared to do before and it showed. In addition, rather than focusing on being nimble and quick, she was becoming sturdier, slower but more precise. Ephraim’s lance still feels awkward in her hands, but she is adjusting to the heft of it, the difference in how to stand, and how to throw her weight into the thrusts while still remaining centered. In that, at least, she is grateful for the set of her hips. One of the biggest struggles Ephraim had complained about when he was first learning the lance was trying to stay centered, the weight of his armor and awkwardness of the movements sending him off balance regularly. Duessel had explained to him, once, that the men of Grado’s army often had a harder time of it than the women, whose lower center of gravity helped them stay on their feet when they were first learning.

Ephraim had pestered Eirika for days afterwards, trying to convince her to take up training with him. She had politely declined, insisting that she would rather spend her time learning how to maintain peace than how to survive war. Lyon had commented on her optimism. He had said that he hoped he could help her build that peace, that together they would make sure Ephraim never had to put his lance to work outside the training grounds.

“Good,” Eirika had giggled. “Wouldn’t want him falling on his face all over the battlefield.”

Shaking her head out of thoughts of the past, Eirika smooths out her dead brother’s shirt against she stomach, letting its weight and bulkiness stiffen the curves of her hips. There is no time to get lost in stray memories, now or ever. She takes a deep breath and sets herself firmly in the present. Its desperate, grasping impossibility sinks claws deep into her shoulder blades and settles in for the ride as she steps out of her tent.

~

The visiting company is smaller than she had expected it to be, given the noise. There is Innes, of course, standing in the center of attention. A few pegasus knights have accompanied him, including Vanessa, all richly decked in Frelia’s colors and crest. Tana is nowhere to be seen, which is a small relief. Eirika isn’t sure she could handle both of them at once, not without some preparation.

When Innes spots her, his eyes flash dark for a moment. Vanessa, who is standing a fair distance away but remains acutely aware of her lord’s movements, instantly tenses. Eirika, to her credit, manages to put things together just before Innes makes his way over to her. She collects herself just enough to straighten up, pulling her shoulders up and widening her stance as if to brace herself against an attack.

“Ephraim,” he beings, voice full of venom. “Nice to see you made it back alive. Any other casualties along the way?”

Eirika shifts slightly under his stare, noticing the unpleasant curl of his upper lip, and the white-knuckled clench of his hands. This isn’t any kind of courtesy on Hayden’s part. No, this must have been Innes setting out of his volition. Not to welcome them, but to speak his angry words outside halls that were supposed to be welcoming.

“We have had an uneventful return trip.” She chooses her words carefully, her eyes catching more details about him. His hair looks unwashed, a peculiarity for the prince, and he has dark circles under his eyes. Eirika had known it would be hard on Tana, but she had never suspected that Innes would take things in this manner.

Behind him, Eirika can see the small crowd that had gathered earlier begin to disperse.

“So it was just your sister, then. She’s the only one you weren’t able to protect.”

The words sting, though not in the manner he had intended them to. She has swallowed her fair share of guilt in the days since Ephraim’s death, turning thoughts over in her head, wondering if she could have moved faster, could have helped more. They try to elbow through her plans, to dwell in the center of her focus, but Eirika has done her best not to let them. Sadness may be necessary, and unavoidable, but guilt will only trip her up. Guilt will only turn her against herself.

So it’s not the guilt that digs at her under his weighty stare. Rather, it’s the implication. Eirika has no doubt that if he knew the truth of the matter, he would be a different creature altogether. It’s in the tone of his voice, the accusation. As if the death of a warrior was somehow on the conscious of someone who never got close enough to fight at her side, simply because she was the princess and he was the prince. A low simmering outrage boils in the pit of her stomach.

Of course, she already knew, to some extent, that this was the shape of things. She had known from the moment she heard that Ephraim was dead, that the most she could hope to be was the pitied sister of a dead prince. That she served her kingdom better by being dead. But it is different, hearing the implication straight from Innes, a man she had always respected as fellow royalty and brother to her dear friend. It stings like sulphur in her nose and down her throat, and she steps, however briefly, outside of Ephraim’s name.

“Eirika died because she was piercing straight into Grado’s army without but a handful of supporting soldiers. She cut down the force that had held Renvall, a supposedly impenetrable fort. She died doing something she hated, for people she loved.”

Innes shrinks back a tad, clearly surprised by the onslaught. Not by its existance, of course, he never would have expected Ephraim to roll over and apologize after something like that. Eirika knew that her brother had always tended to rely on actions above words, however, especially when pairing off against Innes. So it isn’t surprising to her that he looks taken aback now. He was more prepared for a punch in the face than for any direct rebuttal of his accusations.

Eirika takes a step forward as she continues, glad for the thick heels of her boots that help to cut down, at least slightly, the height difference between her and Innes. He still more than edges her out, long and lanky and towering as he is, so she puts all of her energy into filling up his negative space with her anger; with her presence, drawn up as tall as she can make it.

“You are a good man, Innes. A good prince. But you are a fool if you think you can twist the memory of my sister into some sort of tool to use against me. If you have any respect for her, for me, for all of Renais, you will mourn with me, not in some sort of delusional opposition to me.”

Her voice, which has risen to a deep, throaty yell, has drawn back the wandering crowd that had attempted to give them space earlier. As such, Eirika lowers her tone so that the last bit of her words can only be heard by Innes. “And then, you will help me reclaim her home.”

She can hear his intake of breath, angry and hurt and still steaming with outrage. It is only when he holds it inside of him that she begins to realize he may be diffusing rather than mounting up for attack.

It’s a long silence before he breathes out. “Tana hasn’t left her room for days. You cannot fault me for my anger.” His voice is quieter, but no softer.

“No more than you can fault me for mine. Protect your sister in your way, but I will protect mine in my own manner. And her death deserves to at least be acknowledged as one of glory, not treated as a… a fault in someone else. I imagine you would not want me to levy charges against Tana if you should fall in your attempts to defend your country.”

“That’s different. Tana is only-”

“Is what? Your sister? Frelia’s princess? A brave soul and a brave warrior? If you think any of those should be prefaced with an ‘if’ then you do her a disservice as well as Eirika.”

Cooling, if only slightly, Eirika pulls some of her rage back into her gut. “I understand. I would be lying if I said I have not felt guilty for her death. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t feel guilty as well. And perhaps Tana feels it more than any of us. But I doubt she sent you out here to acoust me. And I doubt that either her nor Eirika would like to see us fight over the matter.”

Innes lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Not like you to suggest that we refrain from fighting, Ephraim.”

Eirika, rather than letting the comment uproot her stance, lets it settle, unnoticed, in the dust. “Not like you to apologize, Innes.”

“I haven’t.”

“Ah, but you are going to.” Before he can object, Eirika looks over his shoulder and catches Vanessa’s eye, raising motioning with a nod that she come over to them. Unwillingly, she complies.

“Vanessa, thank you for accompanying Prince Innes back here to see us today. It’s lovely to see you in proper Frelia colors, not in the road-weary outfit I last saw you in.”

If she blushes, Eirika is careful not to make note of it. Rather, she turns her gaze back to Innes, staring him down as she continues her conversation with Vanessa. “Now, I believe our friend would like to head back to Frelia. He would like to inform King Hayden of my formal request to meet and discuss our future course of action.”

Both Innes and Vanessa are surprised at this. She speaks before he can form the words. “What future course of action?”

Eirika raises her hand, stopping Vanessa before she can derail her momentum. “Well, that remains to be seen. It depends on the ruling of Frelia, after all. But I don’t think I’m the only one here who has something to protect.”

Innes seems to turn her words over, staring hard back into her steady eyes. Finally, he nods his confirmation. “My father has been busy and slow to act, but I believe I can get you into a conference with him from the moment you step into the castle. If you know what you are doing, that is.”

It is Eirika’s turn to think now. Before she had been quick to rebuke him, but now she knows she needs to prove that she can be as calm as she can be hotheaded. “I do. For Eirika’s sake, I swear that I do.”

She pauses before adding, “And for Tana’s as well. They both deserve better from us.”

The bitterness that slides off of him is visible. It pools at his feet, letting his mouth unwrap itself from the permanent scowl it had been set in. “Yes.” 

He turns to Vanessa. “Yes, we should be off.”

It is only when he is mounted behind her on the pegasus, the rest of his small group similarly mounted and ready to leave, that Innes turns back to Eirika.

“And Ephraim? I’m sorry. Your sister was braver than most. She died a warrior’s death, and deserves to be respected for it.”

Eirika smiles, despite herself.

She had never thought of herself as a warrior before.


	4. Chapter 4

Innes leaves without any further fanfare, letting the rest of the camp settle back into their routine. They all still have a great deal of ground to cover if they want to reach the castle before nightfall, and Eirika doesn’t want to let her in with Hayden go to waste. She nods to the few people still silently watching, signaling them to get back to work, before heading off to pack up her own gear. 

Seth trots over to her as she does, and Eirika settles in to her task, doing her best to ignore him. He stands awkwardly by as she pulls down the tent, neatly folding the canvas on a bag along with the rest of her gear; sleeping sack, a few maps, and clothing, a change of boots, and the armor she won’t be wearing on the march. The spear she keeps closer at hand, not comfortable without a weapon in her hand, even if it is one she is still awkward with. Seth clears his throat as she finishes her packing, forcing her to look up, her feelings of weary resignation plain to see.

“Milord, do you have a moment to talk?” His voice is friendly enough, certainly more so than it has been recently, but there is an edge of discomfort to it, and edge of insistence. Still, Eirika has little energy left in her to humor him. Her thoughts are already split in several different directions, each tugging at the hem of her mind like impatient children.

“Can we discuss this while on the road? We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Seth shifts his balance to his other foot. “I suppose. It’s nothing that needs a great deal of time or privacy, I’m simply concerned for what your plan is for moving forward at this point. You mentioned to Innes that you wanted to meet with Hayden, something which I had not yet gotten wind of.”

“You’ll have to pardon me for that Seth,” she responds, voice crisp. “You’ve been rather dispossessed of your wits lately. Your thoughts otherwise occupied, perhaps? I felt it was better to leave you to your distractions.” She raises a hand to stop him when he tries to eke in his protestations. “I don’t mean this as an insult to your character or to your competence. I still have every faith in you, I simply understand that we’ve all been handling things differently. And it’s not as if I have required your aid much recently. If leaving you time to mourn in peace will help you be a more efficient commander when I do call on you, then I see no reason why I shouldn’t do so.”

“Milord…” Seth begins, trailing off into a thoughtful stare. Eirika blanches under the mear seconds of examination. She knows that she has been trekking through her deception on a wish and a prayer, and a reliance on the fact that most of the people she was interacting with on a regular basis hadn’t known her brother. Kyle and Forde were the only significant exceptions to this that she had been in talks with frequently, and they were in on the secret. Seth is, frankly, a liability, and she had been taking advantage of his taciturn behavior as a small blessing. And here he is, only a few minutes into a conversation, and already giving a hard stare at the soft cut of her jaw, the roundness of her eyes, looking for a familiarity she is afraid he will find.

Eirika mentally apologizes to him before she settles into her next course of action. Ephraim may have been a hothead, but to succeed in becoming him, Eirika is quickly learning that she will have to be cold-blooded. “I saw how you would look at her, after all. We all did.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Eirika turns, staring him down, filing the edges of her vision down to a sharp point. “I’m sure you are. It’s not my place to discuss your relationship with my sister. However, it’s also not your place to question how I choose to lead my troops, nor whom I chose to share information with. At present, my plans are my own, and I intend to keep them that way until I have enough support to move forward to them. Unless, perhaps, you would like to question my right to lead as Prince of Renais?”

The words taste candy-sweet on her lips, like stolen pastries devoured in dark corners. She harbors no great hatred of Seth, but she does have a swollen resentment of his treatment of her, shallow as it can be on occasion, as a princess rather than a prince. It was never something that bothered her before the war broke out, before she was stolen away from her home and her country, borne away on the horse of a man who held her more like a precious object than a future ruler. But in the moments after their escape, it had been building like a toxin, a knife twisted a little more every time she caught him with his eyes on her.

As Ephraim, at least, his gaze has tended to slide off of her, but now he is locked on to her again, steady and persistent and searching. She wants to shake it off of her, to peel it away from her skin. So if her words are more biting than seems fair, she can only hope that they won’t sting him too much, insulated as he has been by a dense layer of regretful meditations.

He is certainly shaken. His probing stare retreats back from where it had pinned Eirika down, and he recoils into himself. “I assure you milord, Princess Eirika and I never...we never had any sort of relationship beyond the most professional sort. It’s true we grew close during the time we traveled together, but I would never…”

Eirika sighs, knotting shut the strings of her bags with jerky movements. “I have no way of knowing what transpired during your travels together on your way to rescue me. I have to tell you, it’s not something I have asked a great deal about. The subject is,” she closes her eyes, trying to turn the smouldering coals of anger into a face heavy with sadness. “The subject is difficult for me, to say the least. I’m sure you have no strong desire to talk of it in detail either. As I mentioned, it’s not my place to discuss your relationship with my sister, nor to theorize as to how ‘close’ you grew while running from danger to danger in an attempt to survive attack from the largest army on the continent. I simply ask that you pay me the same respect that I assume you paid her.”

The last word is laced thick with sarcasm, though Seth doesn’t seem to pick up on it. Rather, he simply nods his head and wanders away back towards his own tent. He carries out the motions of packing, though his thoughts are clearly elsewear. There is a concentrated frown traced along the thin, worn lines of his face, his eyebrows resting heavily against the lip of his brow.

Eirika doesn’t know if he has noticed the missing details, the way she holds herself differently, the change in Ephraim’s voice. She tries not to think on the possibility too long. Whether or not Seth would have been a trustworthy ally if she had gone to him from the start, that chance is far gone now. Telling him now would most likely only lead to a more vocal protestation of plans he clearly already has his doubts about. And considering they are less than a day’s march out from an authority he might find more appealing than hers, she cannot risk revealing herself to him before getting Hayden’s consent to carry forward with her plans. Sometime after that, perhaps, but…

Eirika tuts to herself, shaking her head. No, it’s not worth the risk, not at this point, not when she’s already lied to his face and used his attraction to her as leverage to keep him in place. She can only hope that she can keep up the facade. She knows if he figures her out on his own then the consequences are sure to be worse than her than her simply telling him. But she’s not willing to cut her losses just yet.

~

The rest of the trip into Frelia passes without much trouble. Silent marching is not an unfamiliar state of being for Eirika, or for the rest of her travel companions, and they fall into the routine quite easily. 

Her main concern, aside from the obvious looming question of if she will be able to continue after this, is if she will be able to convince everyone else to continue. It’s not something that she had spared a great deal of thought for before now, and she feels a twinge of guilt for it. She had always condemned her brother for placing strategy above the will of his subordinates. He had never been rude about it, or overly forceful, but he had a tendency to make decisions first and ask for support second, and he was a hard man to say no to. Eirika hadn’t liked his forcefulness on such matters, citing it as an abuse of his privileges as prince. To tell the truth, she had partially been jealous of his ability to simply assume people would be willing to support him in his endeavors, and of the fact that he was proven so consistently correct.

Whatever the case, that she has followed his pattern so readily when sketching out her plans is enough to turn her thoughts to fretting. She can see the heaviness in the footsteps of the people walking around her. The people she is supposed to be leading, supposed to be protecting. As much as she has built herself around the idea that reclaiming Renais is the most important goal, she also knows that her hodge-podge army deserves as much of her dedication as her hopes for a dying kingdom. What’s more, even if Ephraim had a tendency to make plans first and ask for support second, at least he had usually been fairly transparent about it. He never would have hidden his ideas from any member of the group the way Eirika has, let alone one of his chief knights. She can’t help but wonder if she is digging a hole so deep she can never ask her friends to pull her out of it.

She’s mulling these thoughts over when Kyle pulls in alongside her. He’s walking, leading his horse along with him to give both of them a break from the strains of riding. They walk together in silence for a stretch of time, though he clearly has words brewing in the back of his throat. Eirika half-smiles distractedly at him, before returning to her own meditations, trying to settle her thoughts into some sort of order so that she can focus on whatever it is that Kyle wants to bring to her attention. 

Running her fingers distractedly through her hair, a habit left over from a time when it fell in long tresses around her shoulders, she strikes upon a balance, shifting her concerns over to the back of her mind. She can’t deal with her worries about neglecting the people around her by ignoring them. Better to deal with the issues at hand then to double back along the path she has already started in on. When she looks over at Kyle again, she is able to focus in on him. He looks to be fairly deep in his own litany of concerns and distractions, but quickly shakes them off when he notices her looking at him.

“I hope I am not interrupting your thoughts, sir.”

“Not anything that isn’t better for the interruption, Kyle.” Eirika nods graciously at him, silently thanking him for the ease by which he treats her as formally as he did her brother. It’s moments like this that she is thankful to have people by her side who know every detail of her brother’s death, and of her own reactions to it. Though she hasn’t spent a great deal of time talking to Kyle or Forde on a personal level about what happened, she has still relied, perhaps more than she is readily willing to admit, on their quiet support.

“I was just talking to Seth.”

Eirika can’t help but sigh, sinking into a slow resignation. Whatever Seth knows or suspects about her, even if it has nothing to do with her true identity, it seems that she won’t be finding any sort of peace from his inquiries any time soon.

“He’s concerned about you. About the way you’ve been acting.”

“I know,” Eirika says, working to contain her dismissal of the issue. “He mentioned as much to me before we left camp this morning.”

Kyle makes a low “hmmm” sound that’s somewhere between agreement and a thoughtful consideration, and they walk on in silence for a little longer.

“Do you think I should have told him? Should tell him now?”

“To tell you the truth, sir, I’m not sure. I know how to fight a war and how to protect my lord, I know how to serve my kingdom in times of peace and times of violence, but this is beyond that. I think that you’ve entered into a territory where there aren’t any easy answers as to what is right and wrong, fair or unfair.”

Eirika nods, slightly, though his words aren’t much help to her. But she can’t blame him for not wanting to get his own opinions involved in the situation. “He’s not going to let this go, is he.”

“I wouldn’t, if I were in his place. At least, not easily. He already sees himself as a failure. As far as he is concerned, he let Renais fall to protect you, but wasn’t even able to do that in the end. Being further cut out from your plans can only reinforce that guilt.”

Eirika frowns. “It’s not that I want to cut him out. It just seems more pragmatic to limit the number of people who are aware of...aware of the truth.”

“But you aren’t just keeping that from him,” Kyle persists. “You haven’t told him even the basics of your strategy or plans to approach Hayden. And the whole camp knows you have something in place, after that scene with Innes.”

Eirika bites her lip gently, mulling it over. “I understand where he is coming from you know. Where both of you are. But I’ve already committed myself to my actions. I don’t think second guessing myself now would do anything more than slow me down.”

Kyle raises his hand slightly in assurance. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to question your methods or your decisions. It’s simply my job to report the mood of the knights, and provide you with my perspective so that you may make more informed decisions. I did the same thing for Ephraim.”

This reassures Eirika, smoothing her raised hackles. It was good to know that Kyle wasn’t treating her any differently than he had treated Ephraim.

After another brief silence, Kyle adds, “For what it’s worth, I believe you have acted with more bravery and sense of duty than anyone else I have ever served.”

Kyle speaks softly, but firmly, as if to make sure she doesn’t question the sincerity of his words. They hit her harder than any of the rest of the bitterness that she’s faced down today. Before she can respond, Kyle presses on.

“I don’t mean to say that I didn’t care for your brother. I believe I would have followed that man off the edge of the world, or into the pits of hell. Most of us would have,” Kyle continues, smiling sadly. It’s a smile that is echoed, faintly, on Eirika’s own face. “But I don’t think he ever realized how easily that sort of thing came to him. Oh, he worked for things. He put his life on the line for Renais, time after time. I don’t think he could have ever given up his identity for it, though. Fought until his last breath, pushed forward in impossible circumstances, certainly. But this?” Kyle gestures to Eirika, and then outward, to the whole of the bedraggled army. “Never this.”

Without realizing, Eirika has clenched her knuckles into a stark whiteness. She digs her fingernails into her palm, trying to center herself, trying to find some sort of balance.

“Whatever happens next, if we succeed or fail, I know you are going to hear your deeds spoken of in your brother’s name. I just wanted you to know that the things you are going to do in his stead aren’t the only things that make you remarkable. You have a strength, Eirika of Renais, found in few others. And it is all your own.”

If the warmth in Eirika’s chest spills out into tears, Kyle is polite enough not to notice. She swallows it as best she can, nodding once to him. “Thank you, Kyle.”

He smiles again, and this time it is more genuine. “Just providing you with my perspective, sir” Raising his hand, he briefly places it on her shoulder, a show of companionship that Eirika had often seen exchanged between him and Ephriam.

Sensing that their conversation is over, Kyle falls back a bit, leaving her space to walk alone. Ahead, Eirika can see Seth riding stiffly, his form as composed and formal as always, giving away nothing of their earlier friction. If he is unsettled by her actions, he has yet to show it outwardly, at least not to the rest of the group.

The fact that he had approached Kyle is worrisome, however. How many other people has he talked to? Who might he contact if she continues to shut him out? It is clearly an issue she will have to address sooner or later.

In any case, it isn’t anything she can fix while on the road. Instead, she lets her mind wander back to Kyle’s words, filling her chest with them until they threaten to spill out all over again. 

~

They arrive at the castle in the late evening, escorted inside by the light of the last wisps of sunset. Hayden gives little more than a brief cursory welcome, which Eirika does not push. She will seek him out once she knows her people are settled and safe, their animals looked after, and their belongings stowed properly. The castle is buzzing with activity, servants and knights scurrying around inside the heavy walls, which rise up around her like a comfort or a fear. She can’t quite place it. Castle Frelia is either a needed refuge or a makeshift prison where she will stall and fade. The truth of it remains to be seen.

Eirika insists that most of the group head off to their rooms to settle in. They are being afforded some precious extra space in the knight’s barracks, though some of them, like Moulder and Vanessa, have their own homes to return to. Eirika stops one of the scuttling servants to ask about food, and is quickly assured that, though dinner has already been served, the kitchens are full of extra food set aside for them. It will make for an informal first evening, but it’s more thoughtful a gesture than Eirika had hoped for, and she quickly spreads the word along to the others. They all look grateful and relieved, full up with the thought of warm food and beds and sleep and safety. It is gratifying to Eirika to see them sink their teeth into these small comforts. Whatever happens next, she has lead them back here, every one of them alive and whole, and she is proud of that.

Once she is sure that everyone else is being attended to, Eirika takes a moment to check in with her knights. She briefly looks around for Seth, hoping to perhaps make a half-hearted attempt to include him, but he has already shuffled off with the rest of the crowd. Forde almost slips away as well, making a beeline for the kitchen when he hears there is food there, but Eirika manages to grab his attention before he slips away. Kyle, for his part, had stowed his belongings and immediately returned to hover attentively by her side. His aggressive loyalty is occasionally a bit overwhelming, but for the moment Eirika appreciates it. She just hopes he will make some time for himself before they leave.

“Kyle, Forde, I’ll keep this brief.” Kyle smiles encouragingly, and Forde seems noticeably cheerier at the news. 

“I’m planning on meeting with Hayden as soon as possible, and I want to say two things. First: thank you. I know I haven’t made things easy on you, but you have proved yourself knights of the finest caliber. If we retake Renais, I will make sure the whole of the kingdom knows your names.”

“Don’t you mean ‘when we retake Renais,’ sir?” Forde has a mischievous grin plastered across his face as he continues, “and I expect you to mention my dashing good looks as well as my name. And my painting skills.” 

Kyle is leveling a friendly, but stern glare at him. Eirika choses not to respond.

“Secondly, I want to let you know that, though I will not be able to take you in with me to meet with Hayden, I expect your support from the outside. Make sure we come off as professional and competent to the Frelia army. I don’t want any nasty rumors spreading to the king. All it takes is a small grain of doubt to topple everything.”

Forde nudges Kyle. “I think that means she wants you on your best behavior.”

Eirika can’t help but smile a bit at Kyle’s indignant expression. “I am always on my best behavior, Forde. I would never deign to serve my lord with anything else.”

Holding up her hands to calm them, Eirika swallows the rising laughter. It is a small thing, but she appreciates how at ease she can feel around them, in small moments like this. Forde eases tension off her like a warm bath. “Both of you have served me better than anything I could have hoped for. But now it is time for me to try and do well by you.” 

Catching one of the passing servants eyes, Eirika motions him over. “I was hoping to meet with King Hayden tonight. He should have been informed of this earlier, I believe…” She trails off, letting the quiet ending form an expectant question. To her relief, the servant nods an affirmative.

“We’ve all been told to escort you to his quarters whenever you are ready.”

“I am ready now, thank you.” Eirika speaks without hesitation. Though she would love a warm meal and time to rest, she needs to take care of this matter before the words boil over and come spilling out of her.

As she is lead away, she can hear Kyle whisper a quiet “good luck.”

What stays with her more than that, however, is the moment later, when she overhears Forde’s aside to Kyle.

“She won’t need it.”


End file.
